


Slow and Steady

by mistresscurvy



Series: Ten in Ten [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Football | Soccer, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can't heal a heart broken by sport with sex, Liam."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow and Steady

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to lokte for the Brit pick and to mrsronweasley and mere for looking it over. ♥

The buzzer to the door goes off while Louis is upstairs and too far away to get there before his mum does. He's equally wary of the possibility of either the press or fans at their door, since he's in no mood to be good-humoured about being bothered by anyone at the moment.

Fans are less likely to make him want to punch something though, so he's hoping it's the latter, in the end.

As he's coming down the stairs though he can hear his mum's voice, bright and cheerful, and he knows even before he sees her hugging Liam that it must be a friend.

"You alright, Jay?" Liam asks, pulling out of the hug a bit and turning his head so Louis's mum can kiss his cheek.

"Oh, just fine, love. I'm running out to the shops, actually--Louis, go make Liam a cuppa, it was a long drive."

"Not too long," Liam protests, but Louis is already heading into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"Now will you still be here for tea tonight, Liam? Will I see you when I get back with the girls?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Liam says as Louis comes back in, grinning down at her. All mums love Liam, it's impossible for them not to, Louis thinks. His is no exception.

"Alright, I'll be back in a few hours, stay off the leg, Louis," she says quickly, the involuntary instruction slipping out, her face apologising a bit even as she says it.

"Cheers, mum," Louis says, kissing her cheek and not arguing. She's not wrong about staying off it, and getting stroppy with his mum over being babied won't help anything.

Getting stroppy with Liam, on the other hand, seems like a fine plan. "So what brings you up this way, then?" he asks, heading back to the kitchen and watching the kettle until it finally switches off.

"You've a match tomorrow," Liam says. Louis busies himself getting out the mugs and the milk and the five billion pounds of sugar Liam'll need for his tea. "I told you I'd be up for it."

"Not playing in it now, am I? No point in you coming to the pitch when you'll just get mobbed by fans and I won't even play." He fixes both mugs, not looking at Liam until he hands him his tea. "Here, let's head upstairs."

He's been out on his own for more than three years now, hasn't been a dependent in this house in ages, and yet it still feels weird to entertain guests in his mum's front room. It's like he's play-acting he's an adult, and he feels that way enough already in his day-to-day life. No need to feel that way at home, too.

Being in his old bedroom with Liam makes it feel cramped though, like it's too small to contain them, both of them perched on the edge of his bed drinking their tea. Maybe sitting on the sofa would have been a better call.

"I'm sorry about your leg," Liam finally offers. There it is, then.

Louis shrugs. "Part of the game."

"Yeah, but I know how much you were looking forward to it--"

"Talking about how rubbish the whole thing is won't make it better," Louis says before gulping down more tea. "I'm gutted, you know I'm gutted, so let's just not, shall we?"

"Alright." 

They sit in silence for a few moments, Louis drinking down all his tea to give himself something to do. It's been a long time since the two of them struggled for conversation; it feels almost as stifling as the size of the room. Louis sets his mug down on the floor, wincing as he does, his quads still cross with him for last weekend's disaster. "I'm fine," he says preemptively, but it's no use.

"You're all tense," Liam says immediately, setting his own mug down near the leg of the bed. "Would a massage help, or..."

Louis stares at him. "Or?" he repeats, and there it is, the blush that always gives Liam away. "You're all tense," Louis mimics, with just a touch more breathiness than is strictly accurate, but he's a singer, not a reporter. "Worst line ever, that."

"It's not a line, Lou," Liam says reprovingly, and if Louis didn't know better he'd be fully convinced by the sincerity in Liam's eyes. "You won't heal properly if the muscles around the injury are locked like that."

Louis rolls his eyes. "It just gets worse! Does that face ever actually work when you're chatting people up?"

"No, but really, when I pulled my groin in sprints training I had to do tons of rehab for it to heal up right--"

"So sex is your proposed method of rehab, then, is it?" Louis interrupts, and there it is, _there's_ the full blush he'd been waiting for. This is ridiculous. "You can't heal a heart broken by sport with sex, Liam. It won't work. I know you've no experience with this, given your Wolves have been atrocious since back before you were having sex for any reason, let alone to mend a football broken heart, but trust me, it won't work."

Liam doesn't seem bothered by Louis's aspersions against either his club or his sexual past, which just proves Louis's point, he feels. This isn't something Liam can fix. But that doesn't stop him from trying.

"It's not about your broken heart, though I am very sorry, Lou," Liam says firmly. "But it's about more than that. You know you need to take care of yourself. It's not your fault--"

Kissing Liam is clearly the only way to get Liam to shut up at this point, so Louis doesn't wait any longer. And while the kiss doesn't make him immediately forget his disappointment or shame or any of that (Liam's a good kisser but he's not magic), he does feel like maybe his body's not his enemy for the first time since the tackle.

"Can't properly do much," he says after breaking the kiss. "Hope you didn't come here expecting a wild shag with a swing or whips and chains or any of that."

Liam doesn't respond to Louis's comments, just kisses him again, arms wrapped around Louis. It makes him feel small and too delicate, the breadth of Liam's reach and his big warm palms on his lower back almost cradling him, holding him close. He pushes that thought away though, focuses instead on Liam's mouth, the way each kiss builds on the last, how his body responses to Liam's touch. 

He tries to keep still, but Liam's got him feeling fairly frantic already, like if his dick doesn't get a bit more attention soon he'll fly out of his skin. "So what were you thinking?" he asks again, unable to simply wait for Liam to get around to whatever he's got planned. He pulls away, ready to poke Liam until he responds if he tries to distract him with kisses again, but that turns out not to be necessary. 

"Thought I'd blow you," Liam says finally, catching his lower lip in his teeth. Louis has no idea how such a straightforward declaration like that can be so hot, with no attempt at seduction whatsoever, but it is, always. It makes him angry and horny in equal strides. 

"Go on, then," he says, a bit too rudely. If it was anyone else, Louis would already be alone in his room again without even the (hopelessly inadequate) consolation of a blow job for his disappointment. But Liam just smiles at him like Louis's done something nice for him, sliding gracefully to his knees between Louis's legs. He gets his fingers under the waistband of Louis's trackies and starts sliding them, Louis pushing his hips up a bit to help. His legs flex with the effort and he winces again, ready to tell Liam off if he comments on it again. 

He doesn't, though, just finishes pulling them off completely and then getting Louis's bad leg up over his shoulder. "Lie back and just relax," he says, his big hands cupping Louis's hipbones. 

"What, and think of England?" Louis quips, but he obeys him anyway, sprawling out over his duvet. 

Liam shrugs, the movement lifting up Louis's leg just a bit. "If you like," he says, and Louis braces up onto his elbows and is about to take the piss out of him for it when Liam smiles at him again. Suddenly Louis _is_ thinking of England, but it's of Beckham wearing England's colours, the white and navy of the national kit, and then Liam takes him in his mouth and he forgets all about Beckham and England and even bloody football. 

He tries to shove his dick further into Liam's mouth, because it just feels so good, the perfect combination of suction and heat, Liam's focus completely on him. But Liam's hands are firm on his hips, and they stay strong even when Liam pulls off for a moment. 

"Stop moving," he says sternly, his voice already a bit hoarse, and Louis groans and falls back completely onto his bed, letting his body turn into jelly as Liam works him over. 

It's like he's trying to massage Louis's dick with his tongue, heal his entire broken body with his mouth, lavishing every inch of his skin with each suck. Liam's hands let up on his hips and move down to his thighs, stroking and kneading his muscles with his strong grip. Tension Louis didn't even know he was carrying suddenly flows out of him, his entire body going limp. 

Except for his cock, of course, which is so hard he feels like he's going to die, the contrast between what Liam's hands are doing to him and the way his mouth is drawing his orgasm closer and closer overwhelming. He can't get enough air in his lungs, gasping with each breath. His hands are tight in the hair Liam's growing out now, just enough to get a good grip. When he comes it makes his whole body shake, his thighs tensing up again, and he thinks absently as he pants through it that it can't have been good for his poorly leg. 

He might be wrong, though, because when Liam pulls off with a soft pop and carefully lowers Louis's leg down, maneuvering him further onto the bed, he all but melts into the covers. Liam's hands start working over his thigh again, gentle but sure of touch, and Louis gets a shaky hand around the back of his head. 

Liam turns just enough to press a kiss on the inside of Louis's wrist. "Can't have you missing out on surfing," Liam says softly.

Louis shakes his head a bit, not thinking about football at all. "Wouldn't dream of it."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! [livejournal](http://mistresscurvy.livejournal.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/mistresscurvy) | [tumblr](http://mistresscurvy.tumblr.com/)


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